Where Is Stiles?
by SuperWhoLocked91
Summary: Missing for days and tortured for information, Stiles is rescued and brought to the hospital. The only thing on his mind is that he has to keep her safe. First Teen Wolf Story. Stydia, Scira


**First Teen Wolf story, just something I wanted to see in the show and had to get it out just in case it never happens. Tried to make it as canon as possible while letting it tell my story. Let me know what you think. Be gentle. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its affiliates.**

He could barely see through his swollen eyes, the blood trickling from his forehead wasn't helping matters any. His jaw was swollen, there was ringing in both ears, and he was pretty sure his nose was broken. And that was just his face. Considering how he was hanging from the ceiling, in a position similar to those the sacrifices had been placed with the exemption that his feet could touch the ground, he was pretty sure his left shoulder was dislocated from all the kicking and hitting with the bat. A few ribs on both sides had to be broken and he would be very surprised if he didn't end up in some sort of cast.

Both shoes had fallen untied to the floor; his jeans, shirt, and hoodie were ripped almost to shreds; at this point, he was shocked he hadn't frozen to death in the cold basement where he was being held captive. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been in the dark room but, he was sure it was longer than he would have liked. There were no windows, no way to tell how many days had passed or what time it was, the watch on his wrist long broken and laying crushed on the floor beneath him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt to move.

All that mattered was keeping her safe.

He couldn't let this monster get to her. Especially after he had seen just exactly what this guy was capable of. The doctor at Eichen House had been trying to get his hands on her for weeks, ever since they had gone to see the author of The Dread Doctors. He'd bailed on Scott and Kira and they had only seen glimpses of him since then; Parrish had even gotten a few reports of him outside all of their homes. There was something off about him, something that made him different from Deaton as a doctor who knew about their world.

The door down the hall slammed in the darkness, making him jolt. He knew what was coming. Straining to open his eyes, he braced himself for the pain. All he could wonder was what the doctor's "toy" would be today.

Footsteps echoed as the doctor seemed to stroll through the hall. He would be at the door in less than a minute. Was that whistling? He'd given up trying to squirm free ages ago; there was no point anymore. He was stuck until someone came for him.

A click in the door signaled that the key was being turned. They'd be face to face in seconds. His heart raced in his chest; he couldn't help but tense up and hold his breath.

The door opened to let in a narrow stream of light, not quite reaching his face. The dried blood in his lashes didn't help his vision at all. Click, click, click went the doctor's shoes on the concrete floor.

"Well, well, Mr. Stilinski, it's been a while since we've seen one another," he said. "How've you been?"

Stiles managed to get one eye open enough to see the smug grin on his captor's face. He didn't miss the silver gleam in his hand as it caught the light, either. His jaw hurt too much to talk but he managed to spit in his direction, specks of blood mixed with saliva.

That earned him a nice slap to the face, turning his head to the right and undoing all the effort he had put into standing up straight. He slumped forward, all his weight being placed back on his wrists.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Stilinski. It's rude not to answer and it's wrong to lie to your doctor."

"You're not," he breathed, "my friggin' ... doctor." He tried to put as much venom into his words as he had felt in his face seconds ago. "You're ... a damn psycho," he continued. That earned him a slap to the other cheek, more blood this time when he spat.

"I can see you're not going to be very hospitable today, Mr. Stilinski. Let's just move onto business, shall we?" The doctor moved towards the tray table he kept in the corner. Stiles had come to hate that table with every fiber of his being. He instinctively leaned as far away as he could. He knew what was coming in the next few minutes. Who knew how long it would last today? A few things clinked together in the dark before the doctor turned on the small overhead light causing Stiles to blink in the sudden, yet dim, lighting. He clenched his jaw, flinching in response to the pain it caused as he did so. He stood as tall as he could make himself, relieving some of the stress off his raw wrists but putting some on his possibly fractured ankle. He could do this. "Now, you know the only question I have for you but I do like consistency so I'll ask again as part of our routine." He moved away from the table and stalked up to Stiles. "Where is the Banshee?"

"Go to Hell," Stiles replied, spitting the last of the fresh blood as close to the doctor as he could get. The doctor cast his eyes to the floor and landed them on the small pool of blood there before shrugging his shoulders.

"Fair enough; it's not like I expected you to answer me. We'll see what you have to say when we're done for the day." With that, he donned a pair of rubber gloves and picked up the syringe that had been used only twice before. Stiles didn't know what was in it but it messed with his head and made him tingly all over. It dulled the pain for now but after it wore off, he could feel everything that had been done to him. "Let's start with this for now. I have a busy day in store for you, Mr. Stilinski." Drawing back the needle and tapping out the bubbles after he'd achieved his ideal dosage, the doctor walked towards the hanging teenager with a sinister sneer on his face. He slid back what little sleeve was left on his arm and, finding a vein in his struggling hostage, injected the medication within seconds.

He felt the effects immediately. His head swam, vision blurred, and his extremities went numb and tingly. This stuff was only used when something really bad was coming but his head wasn't clear enough at the moment to brace himself. Blinking his swollen eyelids, he tried to focus as best he could. He heard a slight humming suddenly start up somewhere in the background but couldn't place the sound. Must be something new.

"Now, Mr. Stilinski, we can stop any time you choose. All you have to do is tell me where she is and you can go home." The doctor turned away from the table (Stiles hadn't even remembered him walking over there) and all Stiles saw was a faint blue light. It took longer than it should have to realize that it was a blow-torch.

In his dazed state, he tried to walk away from what he knew was coming.

"No," he mumble-yelled. "No, no, no, please, no, no," he muttered over and over again. Tears sprang to his eyes as the doctor stalked towards him; he tried his damnedest to break away when he took hold of his left hand. The drug he was given dulled the pain, but didn't take it away completely. He was going to feel this.

Sliding his hand slowly up towards Stiles' fingers, the doctor waved the small torch back and forth in a zig-zag motion until all Stiles felt was intense heat. He could smell burning flesh and hear slight sizzling but only barely over the sounds of his own screams.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the doctor pulled away all at once, causing a quick chill to rush over Stiles' fingers before the ache of the burn took into effect. With how he was feeling now, he could only imagine how much it was going to hurt later. Trying to inspect the damage, he looked as far up as he could. With hands over his head in his position, it was easier said than done. All he could see was red flesh and a little smoke in the dim light. His hands were shaking as he tried to prepare himself for whatever else the "doctor" had in store for him. The mad man returned to his play table, fiddled around with a few instruments that Stiles couldn't see, and then turned back to his hostage.

"I think that we may need to switch things up, Mr. Stilinski. It seems my usual methods of persuasion have failed to succeed with you." With that, the doctor pulled a long slender knife from behind his back and slithered up next to Stiles. All he could do was eye the psychotic man, there was nowhere for him to go. His knees were tied together so that he could stand but had a limited range of motion and couldn't kick or try to run. Any time he tried to move, everything ached.

"I don't know where she is, you psycho son of a bitch!" Stiles screamed as loudly as he could manage, spewing blood and spit as he did so.

"I find that hard to believe, Mr. Stilinski. I do know how much you care for her, anyone who sees you two together can see that." He brought the knife up to Stiles' face and pressed against his cheek, drawing blood.

"I've been locked in this room for God knows how long; how in the hell do you expect me know where anyone is?" With the adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins, Stiles had more strength to talk than he had only moments ago.

That earned him a quick slice of the blade where it was pressed, then another when he cried out in pain. The blade was thin enough that it sliced effortlessly, he knew it was going to leave the ache of paper cuts after that drug wore off in an hour. By the time he was finished, Stiles' face closely resembled his clothes and his arms weren't looking much better. Droplets of blood made their way to the floor and Stiles put all his weight back onto his wrists under exhaustion.

"We'll pick this back up later, Mr. Stilinski," the doctor said. He wiped his hands clean and grabbed a bottle of water. Tipping it into Stiles' mouth, he said, "You're no good to me dead," as Stiles lapped up what he could when it flowed over his lips and onto his bleeding face. He coughed when he drank too quickly. All too soon, the doctor pulled the bottle away, sat it on the table, turned off the light, and made his way to the door. Without a word, he pulled it shut and Stiles heard the key that told him it was locked, then the dissipating echo of footsteps as he walked away.

A few choice curse words and phrases passed through his head, he didn't have the physical strength to actually say them. Everything ached and throbbed at the moment and he could only imagine how he would feel later. The fact that there had been no beating this time made him wary as to what was coming when the doctor returned.

Eventually, the drug made its way out of his system and he felt everything in full force. Groaning and yelling were all he could do to alleviate some of the pain and he did so until he passed out.

He didn't wake until he heard the door down the hall being opened. _He can't be back already_ , he thought. He never came back this soon. How long had he been asleep?

Footsteps told him they were closer. He wondered what was coming. Would it be the bat? Kicks? More electroshock? Would he have another knife?

The door was pulled open within seconds, Stiles didn't even have time to register that he never heard the key in the lock. He couldn't see much with the blood covering his face and his eyes even more swollen from the fresh beating. He lifted his head but only made out the shape of a person in the doorway. It took too much effort to keep his head up so he let it drop back to his chest.

"Stiles," he heard someone whisper-yell. "Stiles!" He recognized that voice; he hadn't heard it in months. The person at the door rushed to him and lifted him just high enough to remove his wrists from the hook he was hanging from. "Stiles, wake up! Can you hear me?!" he yelled.

"Derek?" Stiles muttered. Was this really happening? "Derek?" he repeated.

"Yeah, Stiles, it's me. Stay with me, man." Derek threw him over his shoulder, not bothering to untie his wrists or knees. "I'm gonna get you out of here." Stiles all but lost consciousness as Derek took him through the long hallway and outside. He saw in flashes that they were in an abandoned warehouse but he still didn't know where he was. Sooner than he would have thought, they were outside. He thought he saw the doctor's body in a corner on his way out but that may have just been wishful thinking. They made it to a black sedan just before Stiles passed out for good. "Let's get you out of here," Derek said as he dumped Stiles' almost lifeless body into the front seat and shut the door.

 **XXXX**

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the hospital room. Two deputies were stationed outside the room of the sheriff's son 24/7; Papa Stilinski wasn't taking any chances. There was an approved visitors list and no one else was allowed in. Not that anyone had been in yet. The doctors at the hospital had just recently moved Stiles to recovery. He'd needed hundreds of stitches, his shoulder was in a sling, his mid-section was wrapped to accommodate his multiple rib fractures, he had a pin placed in his ankle, and his nose had indeed been broken. While his jaw was swollen and sore, he had somehow avoided it being broken or dislocated. Both wrists had been treated and wrapped to avoid infection and he had been heavily sedated after a tox-screen had cleared him for other medications. He was antibiotics for any possible infections and his hand had been wrapped from the burns, along with the electric burns on various places on his body.

The rest of the pack had been waiting restlessly since they had gotten the call about him being found. They'd been looking for him for days. Scott had finally called in reinforcements when they had come up with nothing after two days.

Stiles and Malia had been broken up for a couple of weeks due to all of the tension and mixed feelings between her and Theo so it was no surprise when he didn't return any of her attempts to make contact. He had taken off to do research on the Dread Doctors and told his friends not to bother him. When even his father hadn't heard from him in over 48 hours, they formed a search party which resulted in the discovery of his jeep in the middle of the woods with a missing battery and the driver's door wedged open.

Now, Kira, Scott, Liam, Mason, Theo, and Malia had taken over the waiting room of Beacon Hills Memorial. Melissa had gotten herself assigned to Stiles' case, along with Liam's stepdad. Derek had gone back to the warehouse on the outskirts of town to clean up and looks for clues as to why this had happened. He'd been the only one of them to see Stiles so far. Scott had run out of options when they had been unable to find him even with the help of the sheriff's department. He'd even been tempted to call his dad for some federal help if Derek hadn't answered. When he'd gotten the call from Derek that he had Stiles in his car and they were on their way to the hospital, he'd dropped everything and told everyone to meet him there. From what he could tell from his mom, his brother was in pretty bad shape.

After what seemed like an eternity, Melissa McCall appeared in the waiting room and was met with the faces of six very concerned teenagers. Only one was missing.

"How is he, mom?" Scott asked.

She looked at all their faces before answering. She had to choose her words very carefully.

"He's pretty banged up, guys. His shoulder's in a sling, one of his ankles had a pin placed in it, he's got some fractured ribs, and a broken nose. Not much is visible. His wrists are wrapped to avoid infection and he's got some burns. Not to mention the hundreds of stitches." She saw all of this register on their faces, taking it in. "We've got him sedated right now and he might not be able to talk soon after he comes to with his jaw like it is. It wasn't broken or anything, but he's gonna be pretty sore for a while. I okayed it with Liam's dad that you can go in, one at a time. His dad is in there right now but you can go in. I don't see him leaving his son any time soon."

"Thanks, mom," Scott said. The small group mumbled their thanks as they went back to their seats. Without even mentioning it, they all knew who was going to be the first to go see him. Scott made his way down the hallway, having to show i.d. to the deputies at the door before being allowed into the small room. "Hey, Mr. Stilinski," he said to the sad man in the corner.

"Hey, Scott," he muttered in response. He couldn't take his eyes off his son laying in that bed. Scott placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

"We're gonna make this right, sir," he said. He hadn't told him about the person behind it no longer being a problem. Stilinski's hand found its way to Scott's.

"Thanks, Scott."

Scott made his way to the bed, taking in the sight of his brother. While his mom had told them what to expect, it was still hard to come to terms with the sight in from of him. All that was visible were his right hand and his eyes, even though they were closed at the moment. If he had been the one to find that dirtbag doctor holding him hostage... There's no telling what he would have done before ripping his throat out. He slid his own hand into Stiles' and squeezed. Even with the bandages on his wrist, that was the only place it felt safe to touch him. He took away as much pain as he thought would help, watching it being pulled into his own skin. Even though it was residual, he felt everything. He could only imagine how strong the actual pain was, how his brother had endured it for so long.

"It's gonna be alright, Stiles," he whispered, rubbing his thumb on the back of his friend's hand. He could have sworn Stiles squeezed in response.

Five minutes later, Scott decided the others needed to see Stiles and, after giving Papa Stilinski a reassuring hug, he took his leave of the room and went back to his friends. One by one, they all went to see their friend, Malia being the last. During all this, he and Kira had a conversation about the missing member of their pack.

"I don't know where she is, Scott," Kira said. "I thought she would be here by now."

"Me, neither," he replied. No one had heard from Lydia all day, it wasn't like her. "I have no idea where she could be, either. I called her house and her mom says she's not there, says she hasn't seen her since this morning."

"I wonder why she hasn't shown up yet. I mean, it's _Stiles_."

"I know."

They talked a little more about Lydia's mysterious absence and about what could have possibly happened to Stiles while he was missing. When Malia was finally making her way back to the waiting room, Derek came stealthily into the same place. Scott jumped from his seat when he saw who was with him.

"Lydia?" Malia questioned. "Where were you?"

"I know, I know. I wish I could have been here sooner. But, when Scott called, I met up with Derek," Lydia started. "I went with him to the warehouse, saw all the instruments," her eyes glazed over and she seemed to go to another place.

"Lydia!" Derek snapped.

"Sorry," she said. "Anyway, it was the doctor, the one from Eichen House, the one who left you and Kira in the hall when the Dread Doctors showed up. He's the one that had him all this time," she finished. "I just don't know why."

When she saw the tears starting to form in her friend's eyes, Kira pulled her into a hug, Malia hesitantly did the same and, eventually, they were all in a group hug. Minus Derek. He stood off to the side, wondering where his place was. When they all pulled apart, Lydia took the five steps it took to get to Derek before taking him into an awkward hug of their own. It took a good five seconds for him to return the gesture.

"Thank you, Derek, so much. You saved him," she said into his chest.

"Uh, you're welcome, Lydia," he said. He wasn't one for physical contact unless he was kicking ass. "Any time. He'd've done the same for me," he said as he rubbed her arms. "Hell, he has." They both laughed before pulling away from one another, remembering Mexico.

"So, where is he?" she asked, wiping a few lingering tears from her eyes as she looked at the faces of her friends.

They pointed down the hall almost in unison and she took off in that direction. All eyes were on Derek. He crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders in response.

Lydia stepped into the small room where Stiles lay on the bed, his father in the recliner in the corner. He did a double-take when he saw the strawberry blonde his son felt so strongly about walk through the doorway.

"Lydia," he said in question.

"Hey, Mr. Stilinski," she said. She hadn't been informed on Stiles' condition so she was in a bit more shock than the others when she laid eyes on him. "Uh, how is he?" she asked, her eyes not leaving his still form.

"He's sedated right now. There's a lot of damage. I swear, when I get my hands on the son of a bitch..." Sheriff Stilinski's knuckles turned white when he gripped then edges of the arm rests. Lydia was torn on whether or not to tell him she had seen the body. She guessed no on else had and decided to keep her mouth shut.

Scott's mom came in not too long later and updated them on his condition and Lydia looked over at him, fighting back tears the whole time. She never left, falling asleep in the bed next to him.

 **XXXX**

"Lydia."

"Keep her safe."

"No."

"Please."

"Lydia."

"Stop."

"Please."

"No!"

Lydia was jolted awake from Stiles' mumbling when he screamed. As far as she knew, he was still sedated.

"Stiles, shhhh," she whispered, running her hands over his ribs as softly as she could. "Stiles, it's ok, it's ok. I'm here, now. You're safe."

"Lydia," he whispered.

"I'm here, Stiles," she whispered.

"Lydia?"

She felt him move beneath her.

"Stiles?" She lifted her head from his chest. "Are you awake?" she whispered in the dark room.

"Are you really here?" he asked, not believing it.

"Yeah, I'm really here."

"Everything hurts."

"I know. I can page a nurse if you want."

"Not yet, I like this." He moved his right arm to tighten it around her. She fought a smile and lost; she liked it, too. "What time is it?"

"Not sure." She could tell from the lack of light that the sun had gone down so at least a few hours had passed since she'd gotten here. It had been almost dawn when Derek had called Scott to tell him they were on the way to the hospital. "Probably after midnight." She looked around and saw they were alone. "I wonder where your dad went. He's been here as long as you have."

"I don't know, but he probably went to get coffee or sleep in a real bed. I'm just glad you're here." He tightened his arm around her as much as he could before wincing.

"I'm paging a nurse," Lydia said, getting up from her position against his side. He didn't object.

Melissa was in the room in minutes. After informing him of his condition, she gave him some morphine.

"What time is it, Melissa?" he asked her.

"Around two a.m. You've been out of it for a while, we thought you would sleep through the night." With a few words of thanks and finding out the rest of their pack had gone home for the night, she was gone.

"I think you need to get some more rest, Stiles."

"I'm fine," he mumbled, the pain meds taking into effect.

"I think you need some sleep. I'm gonna head home." She had gotten out of bed when Melissa had shown up and was now standing next to him.

"No!" he shouted, his eyes popping open from their semi-closed state. "Don't leave me," he whispered.

She took his hand and pulled the chair up to the bed.

"Alright, I'm not going anywhere. Just get some sleep." Before sitting down, she chanced a kiss on his cheek. He probably couldn't feel it through the bandages that covered his face. He was wrapped almost completely head to toe to avoid any possible infection from the cuts and burns he had received.

"Thank you." He dozed off but not before whispering, "I love you."

She wasn't sure if he was saying it to her or just thinking out loud. Nevertheless, she smiled at the thought.

She woke hours later when the sun was on her face and Sheriff Stilinski was tapping on her shoulder. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep. When she looked down, her hand was still intertwined with Stiles'.

"it's 5 in the morning, Lydia," he whispered. "I think your mom might be wondering where you are by now. You might want to give her a call." He handed her the second cup of coffee she hadn't seen in his other hand.

"Thanks," she said in response to the coffee. "She knows where I am, I sent her a text last night. But, I'll give her a call." Recent events made her rethink leaving it alone.

"How is he?" Stilinski took a sip of his coffee as he eyed his son.

"Better. He woke up around two this morning, Scott's mom came in and gave him some morphine. I think they're coming to change his dressings around eight."

They made small talk, trying to avoid the elephant in the room. He knew on some level that his son's friends would take care of it and do what needed to be done; the cop in him just needed to overlook certain aspects of how they would do so.

No matter how much he tried, Lydia wouldn't leave his side other than to go to the bathroom and make that call to her mom. He realized that Stiles meant as much to her as she did to him and couldn't help but smile at the thought. All those years and it took him going missing for him to see it.

Stiles went in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. His friends came to visit before school and caught him when he was awake for a few minutes, they promised to come back after school let out. They'd been lucky enough that they'd only missed one day of classes, as bad as it sounds to say they were lucky while their friend was being tortured. Around ten a.m., he woke up and managed to stay awake long enough to eat some soup and a few crackers before going back to sleep. When noon rolled around, he had woken up and stayed awake for an couple of hours during which he got and gave some answers.

"How long was I gone, exactly?" he asked around a mouthful of what he described as disgusting jello. He'd had the bandages around his face changed and shifted enough that he could talk and eat almost like a normal person. He was stuck either eating with one hand or having someone feed him; he'd taken up Lydia's offer to feed him everything he couldn't do himself.

"Five days," she said.

"Five days," he repeated. "It was only five days?" He flashed back to the one of the first times he'd been taken off the hook and kicked around...

 _The doctor had come in and made his spiel about wanting to know where Lydia was; Stiles gave the same answer he always did. Seeming to have had enough, the doctor went up to Stiles and, using some sort of lever to lower him to eye level, lifted him before dropping him to the floor._

 _The wind knocked out of him and mind swimming, he scrambled to make it to the wall behind him. His hands were still tied at the wrists, his knees in the same condition. Before he could even attempt to formulate an escape plan, he felt the first kick to his ribs. If he was having trouble breathing before, it had doubled by now. The way he was wheezing, it was like he had asthma. Another kick. Then another, and another. He wasn't sure when the bat had come into play but he certainly felt it now._

 _He didn't know exactly how long it went on for but he had been ready for it to stop before it began. Eventually, the blows stopped and he was dragged back to the place where he had been hanging. The hook was lowered almost to the floor and he was picked up and placed back onto it._

 _Exhausted and broken, Stiles hung there almost lifelessly until the doctor left, not even flinching when he slapped him before walking out._

 _All he kept thinking about was keeping her safe. He had to keep Lydia safe._

"Stiles?" He was pulled back by the sound of Lydia's voice. She sounded concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked, a spoonful of jello poised mid-way between them. She started to lower it until he opened his mouth to accept the green substance.

"Yeah," he mused. "I'm fine," chewing on the last of the slime in his mouth.

Lydia tilted her head, "Where'd you go?"

"Back," was all she got. The dazed look on his face told her exactly where he meant. She lifted her hand and pushed the hair back out of his face.

"Hey," she said softly. "You're safe, now." She rubbed his face.

He smiled as best he could with his sore jaw. "Thanks, Lydia."

"My turn to ask a question," she said. When he nodded, she continued. "Why you? I mean, what did he want?"

"You," Stiles responded.

"Me? What would he want with me?" Her mind was reeling. Stiles had gone through all this to protect her?

"Not really sure." He coughed before continuing and Lydia gave him a sip of water. "He just kept asking "Where is the banshee?"" Before he had a second to process what was happening, Lydia was on her feet and pressing her lips against his. He returned the kiss as best he could before she pulled away and sat back down. "What was that for?" he asked, a smile dancing on his lips.

"For protecting me. You went through all this to save me, Stiles. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he tried to laugh it off to lighten the mood but his ribs protested. "I have another question. Was I hallucinating or did Derek save me?" Lydia laughed at the face he made.

"You weren't hallucinating, he did. We were coming up with nothing but dead-ends so Scott called Derek. I went with him to the warehouse after he dropped you off here, I saw the table and the room; what he must have done to you..."

"Hey," he said, nudging her with his hand. "I'm ok, now, you said it yourself."

"I know, I know."

"I just realized something; why aren't you at school?"

"Most of my classes are electives, attendance isn't exactly mandatory with my gpa," she laughed it off.

"Of course," he laughed.

They talked for the rest of the afternoon until their other friends showed up after school, alternating who was in the room. While she had been reluctant to leave throughout the day, Lydia took the visit as an opportunity to go get some food from the vending machines; some for her and some for Stiles. She remembered the multiple times he had come to see her and been barred admission to her room and thought how different it was with him being the patient. She hadn't had a police guard outside her room but they had been pretty strict about who could and could not see her. She knew that her friends had protected her just the same way they were protecting Stiles now.

Taking her time walking back to stretch her legs, she tried to imagine what all he had been through in those five days. She stopped a couple of rooms away when it became a little overwhelming and tears came to her eyes. A few deep breaths and calming words later, she wiped the tears and walked the twenty feet to the door. By this time, their friends had left to either do homework or dig up more information on The Dread Doctors. Her money was on the latter.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked when she walked back in.

"What? Nothing," she replied.

"Then why were you crying?" She shot her eyes in his direction. "I can tell. What's wrong, Lydia?"

She made her way over to his bed, spilling her vending machine treasures onto his bedside table before climbing in beside him. "I got you some snacks, since you seem to hate the cafeteria food." She was avoiding answering him, they both knew it.

"Lydia," he prodded, reaching for the bag of Cheetos with his good hand. He tried opening it but failed and accepted her help.

"Fine," she started. "I was just thinking about all the times you've been there for me when I was in the hospital and organizing that search party Sophomore year when I went missing, and then about what you must have gone through in those five days." She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and fought to keep them from spilling over.

He sat the chips down and raised a slightly cheese covered hand to her chin, turning her face towards his. "Don't think about that. It's over, now, and I'm here, with you. That's all that matters. That I'm safe, that you're safe, and he didn't get what he wanted." He smirked a little when his fingers slipped and he saw orange on her pale skin. "I'm getting cheese on your face," he laughed.

"I don't care," she whispered, her eyes looking into his.

Watching her face to make sure it was ok, he slowly pulled her face towards his. He could feel her breath on his skin and he was grateful the nurses had left the bandages off for a few hours so his wounds could breathe. He saw her close her green eyes and he did the same just before making contact with her full, pink lips. The kiss lasted less than a minute but it felt like an eternity, different from the eternity when he was being held captive. This one, he didn't want to end. They pulled away before it could get any deeper when they heard someone clear their throat at the door.

"I, uh, left my backpack," Scott said, his cheeks turning pink in the hospital light. He walked towards the chair Papa Stilinksi had occupied most of last night to grab the bag that had slid onto the floor beside it, not missing that Stiles still held Lydia's chin in his free hand, small cheese markings on her skin. He avoided eye contact as he left with a simple, "See ya later," before going back into the hall.

The couple on the bed looked back at one another before bursting into laughter.

"Well, that was awkward," Stiles said, his hand moving down to hers on the bed.

"Yeah, I can imagine he pulled out his phone and called Kira as soon as he made it passed the waiting room," Lydia chimed in. They were both secretly glad it hadn't been either of their parents.

"So, I have to ask... What does this mean?" Stiles asked his favourite strawberry blonde.

"What does what mean?" she returned, looking into his big brown eyes.

"This," he motioned to their hands on the blanket. "What does it mean?"

"I think it means that we like each other, that we care about one another, that we'll always be there for one another. What do you think it means?" she returned.

"I think it means that it's finally okay for me to ask you to be my girlfriend and not have to worry about you saying no." The way he stared into her green eyes held her there, keeping her from moving any part of her being. "Would I be right?"

"Yes," she whispered. The smile she was met with made one spread across her own lips. She reached her right hand up and touched the left side of his face, the side less damaged by the knife and other weapons. God, she loved those moles. She ran her thumb back and forth across the skin, doing her best not to irritate his exposed stitches. Leaning in, she planted a soft kiss on his cracked, pink lips. This was where she wanted to be right now.

 **XXXX**

Two weeks later, Stiles was finally being released from Beacon Hills Memorial and all of his friends had come to help. Even Derek had stayed in town to make sure no one else came around. He and Stiles may have had their moments but he cared for the little weirdo. They all helped in getting him transported home and up into his room. His injuries had mostly healed but those ribs would take longer than the others.

After he was settled, they all said their goodbyes to him and promised to visit after school for the next week or so until he was able to come back. Kira and Malia both kissed him on his cheek, to which the males of the group joked about them not doing the same. Derek stood in the corner, not wanting to intrude on the small family they had formed. When he said goodbye, it was with a simple pat on the shoulder and a "See you later, Stiles," before he walked out. None of them knew the next time they would see him but he promised to check in every once in a while.

"Derek,"Stiles yelled. A few seconds later, the dark haired were-wolf appeared back in the door frame.

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes confused.

"Thanks, man. I mean it," Stiles said, his face completely serious.

"No problem, Stiles. Just, don't make it a habit," he joked. After Stiles cracked a smile and made him do the same, Derek turned and walked away. He didn't come back this time.

Lydia was the last one standing and stayed behind to help Papa Stilinski around the house so he could go to work without too much worry. They had all offered to pitch in and spend some time there when they weren't in school or busy, even Scott's mom was going to swing by on her way to and from work to check on her second son.

"And then there were two," Stiles joked.

"So, what do you want to do to kill the time?" Lydia asked, closing the door and walking back to his bed.

"I could think of a few things," he remarked.

"Hey, now!" she said. "Just because I'm your girlfriend now doesn't mean that we can just fool around any time we're alone. You _are_ injured, ya know. And you have a _ton_ of homework to catch up on." She slid his legs over towards the wall to sit beside him.

"My girlfriend; I like the sound of that." The goofy grin on his face told her just that.

"I know, I know. Now, scoot over." He complied and she shifted position on his bed to allow her to lay beside him so they were facing one another. "How're you feeling?" she asked, pushing his unstyled hair out of his eyes.

"I've felt worse." When she stilled in her movements, he realized how that sounded. "I didn't mean to..."

"I know. I just don't like thinking about what he did to you. From what you've told me..." she trailed off. Stiles had told her everything he remembered from the time he was taken until Derek's rescue.

"Who'd've thought my cousin Miguel would be the one to make the daring rescue?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood he'd dampened.

"Your cousin Miguel?"

"It's an inside joke thing between me and Derek, nevermind." He grabbed her free hand and kissed the palm. "This is fine, just being like this. We don't have to _do_ anything. As long as you're here with me, I don't think I'll get too bored."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him, not feeling as cautious as she had a couple of weeks ago when his face had been full of stitches. The fact that they were completely alone in the house (there was a patrol car stationed outside) allowed them to kiss longer than they had in the last couple of weeks and with a little more passion. Stiles moved one of his hands to cup her face as they slid down to get a little more comfortable from their awkward position. Lydia cautiously wrapped her arms around his neck and ribcage, trying to avoid causing unnecessary pain. Only when he winced did they stop and pull away.

She apologized but he insisted it wasn't her fault. When he pulled some random items from underneath him, she realized he'd just lain on something wrong. After seeing blood, she made him sit up to inspect.

"Take off your shirt," she demanded.

"Not exactly the way I imagined it, but, ok," he sat up to pull the shirt over his head, wincing as he did so.

If she hadn't been looking for damage, Lydia would have been in awe. He kept pretty covered up but he had quite the body underneath those t-shirts and hoodies. Everything was toned and cut in all the right places and she had to snap herself out of her stupor to remind herself to check for the blood she had seen seep through his shirt.

Upon inspection, it wasn't even that big of a deal. He'd just pulled a couple of stitches from moving around. She hadn't even known he had stitches on his side. She tried to get him to go to the hospital but, when he refused, they compromised on having Melissa take a look when she stopped by on her way to work in a couple or hours.

"I can just imagine explaining this," he said, rolling his eyes and going to put his shirt back on.

"You can leave that off if it's more comfortable," Lydia said as innocently as she could manage.

"Why would it - Oh!" It took him a minute to get it and he couldn't help but choke back laughter when he did. "Yeah, I think I will, it helps my wounds breathe." They both smiled as he handed the shirt to her and she tossed it over her shoulder into the floor. "Ya know, I've had a dream like this."

"Really? How did it end?" she asked, walking her fingers over the indentations in his skin.

"I woke up screaming," he replied, remembering the dream he'd had after he, Scott, and Allison had crossed over. When her fingers stopped, he continued. "If it helps, that's how I knew it was a dream; that you were sleeping next to me."

"Let's hope you don't wake up screaming this time," she said. When he looked confused, she leaned in to kiss him, sliding her fingers down his side until her whole hand was flat on his skin. His hand returned to her face and he gently pulled her towards him. This wasn't exactly where he had seen the conversation going but who was he to object. A few minutes passed before she pulled away and laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around him as tightly as she dared. "Let's go to sleep. I know I could use a nap." He knew she hadn't slept nearly enough in the last couple of weeks and he was feeling kind of tired.

"So could I," he agreed. They settle into a comfortable position, her head on his chest and arms wrapped around him, his head nestled into her hair and his arms surrounding her. "We can talk more, later. Night, Lydia."

"Night, Stiles," she murmured. It may have been the pain meds he was on but he could have sworn he heard her say something else before she dozed off. "I love you."

 **Ok, how bad was that? I tried to end it a million times but just kept adding more and more. It started out as a short little story and turned into almost 8,000 words. Let's see if it was worth it.**


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